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  67. 3:46 a.m.

I've heard enough. And I'm out of time. I chug the rest of my drink, pat him on the shoulder and leave.

…

I drive my one hour, this time in Tennessee.

The next time I wake up, I am in my father’s car parked outside my condo. There is an unmarked car parked down the street and I feel the occupant’s stare as I get out and enter my building.

My dad and Murdock leave, and Lassie and I sit down to the computer.

I log onto the internet.

The email from the company I’d paid to do a background check on Jessica Renoix is waiting for me in my inbox. I click on it and am not surprised to find very little information. There is a credit card, a phone, and an Oregon address. All are for show. Just like they’d been for Callie Freig.

That’s why Jessica needed the money from the watch. She wanted to change her identity. She had done it before.

Twice.

I'd known four Jessicas in my life. Some went by Jess. None went by Jessie. It was a totally different name. Like a Matthew going by Mark. Didn't happen.

I go to the Virginia Missing Person’s Database and search “Jessie.”

No hits.

Maybe I'm wrong.

I think back to what Ricky had said. She liked sports. Especially the Ravens.

The Baltimore Ravens.

I log onto the Maryland Missing Person's database and try again.

Two hits.

One is a twelve-year-old boy.

The other is a sixteen-year-old girl.

Jessie Kallomatix.

She is younger, but there is no mistaking it.

It's her.

Jessie Kallomatix is Jessica Renoix is Callie Freig.

Two Google searches later and I have it all figured out.

What had Ricky said? “She'd ask what kind of dad he was. Was he around a lot?”

Connor Sullivan had lied.

She'd been blackmailing him all right, but not because he'd slept with her.

She'd been blackmailing him because Connor Sullivan was her father.

:15

It takes three days – well, three hours – for it all to come together. Three hours of planning, phone calls, and favors.

I pull open the curtains.

The car is still there.

Still watching.

It is 3:03 a.m.

At 3:04, I hear the sirens.

“Here they come.”

Meow.

“Sorry, buddy. I have to do this one alone.”

Meow.

“Yes, it's going to be dangerous.”

Meow.

“Danger isn't your middle name.”

Meow.

“Because I didn't think to give you one.”

Meow.

“Pistol? I don't think so.”

Meow.

“No. I don't care if he is a triple threat. How bout Roger?”

Meow.

“Well, Lassie Timberlake Bins sounds stupid too.”

Meow.

“Well, I don't care what Murdock says.”

Meow.

“Fine, your middle name can be Danger.”

Meow.

The ambulance pulls up in front of the condo.

“All right, Lassie Danger Bins, it's go time.”

Three minutes later, I am in the ambulance and we are flying down the street.

“Hey,” Sara says from the passenger seat.

“Thanks again.”